Prince of rain
by sumomo-yuki
Summary: A multi-chapter story about a very reluctant Brandon meeting by chance someone who is ready to take care of him and love him in all the ways he needs. Set essentially after the end of the movie, but also introducing some changes to the final part of the original plot. McFassy fans are encouraged to imagine James McAvoy as Jamie. Special thanks to my role-play Brandon.
1. Have you ever seen the rain

It was a rather untypical Thursday night for Jamie Marshall, the self-proclaimed busiest veterinarian in the whole New York city. Or maybe it was the district. Or just the clinic he was employed at. Yeah whatever, the point was he was a busy person and he wouldn't normally be the one to interrupt his very hectic cycle of shift – rest – sleep – shift, and instead go waltzing into gay clubs looking for an exciting one-night stand, or maybe for prospects of a promising romance. He didn't even like to dance so much anymore. Hell, even talking to his friends wasn't that much fun anymore if he did it with a drink over a club counter instead of enjoying a cup of coffee by the table at someone's place. Could it be Jamie was getting old? And to think he used to think that thirty would only be a beginning.

But sometimes, about once a month or so, his friends – gay and hetero, singles and couples alike – would become just a little too much for him. All this texting, the phone calls, the e-mails. All the jabbing and nagging, all the soliciting, pleading and threatening.

"Come on Jamie, let's go out, let's have fun!"

"What do you mean you don't have the time? Like, no time to relax? Or no time to take care of your personal life?" (My personal life is perfectly fine, thank you.)

"Jamie, I'm so sorry to say this, but you've become such a no-life." (I'm kinda sure my cats and hamsters don't share your opinion.)

(About his cats having suddenly developed anxiety attacks when left alone all night.) "You're a terrible liar."

(About his cats trying to hunt his hamsters down due to the anxiety attacks they underwent when left alone all night.) "Can't you just lock the cats away from the bedroom?"

"Jamie, but seriously… Just one evening, just give it a try. If you don't like it, then that's okay, but what if you do? Why'd you miss out on your chances?"

"Come on, man, how long it's been? Five years?... Oh, three, sorry… Anyways, don't you think it's time to move on? No really, quit being a drama queen."

I hate it when they call me a drama queen, Jamie thought as he hung up the telephone. I'd rather be called… I don't know, what about the prince of rain?, he decided as the calm, wistful tunes of a Roxette song drifted from the radio straight to his ears.

_There's a time for the good in life_

_A time to kill the pain in life_

_Dream about the sun, you queen of rain_

Well, his friends were right about one thing. It always was some kind of fun, even though their idea of fun, judging from their reactions, might have been something slightly different from his. The routine would repeat itself on most occasions. A guy (admittedly quite good-looking one) would sit beside Jamie and offer him a drink. Jamie would accept it, but at the same time frankly warn him that he was there just to hang out with his friends, so please, dear tall dark and handsome stranger, don't take it the wrong way if I'm all nice and smiling and looking all endearing with my dark blue eyes screaming "I so need a man, please treat me right". Then the friends would cut in on Jamie, saying something along the lines of "no, don't listen to him, he's totally free and out for you to take him, he's just being shy". Jamie would then smile and say that no he's not, actually he's recovering from a relationship. The confused tall dark and handsome then stuttered some polite expression of sympathy and left without getting him that drink after all, while Jamie's friends would cover their faces with their hands, mumbling something about five years of recovery, or whatever.

So yes, after all it was a fun night, and the most fun part was Jamie proving his point that trying to set him up with any willing, decent-looking random guy from a nightclub was purely a waste of time and efforts.

Jamie was just about to leave the club, the first from the pack. It was half past ten, still rather early. He'd spent about two hours with his friends and actually he did enjoy it. If it hadn't been for that whole setting of "let's find Jamie a man and make him live his life like any healthy thirty-year-old should", it would have been much nicer, though. But then again, maybe not as funny.

As Jamie went past the dark rooms and along the corridor to reach the exit, something, or someone, bumped into him with almost enough impact to knock Jamie over. Trying his best to keep his balance, a slightly amused Jamie thought to himself that this guy truly was one extreme case of a post-blow job daze, falling to the floor like that so helplessly right after he'd left a dark room. Whoever he was there with, the other one must've been good.

The guy who ran into him, however, didn't seem to share Jamie's joyful attitude about the event. Or really his joyful mood at all. He fell to his knees, and stayed like that for a couple of moments before he finally got up, all in slow-motion, hands shaking and legs unstable, sputtering an awkward apology from under the hood which covered his face.

This didn't look amusing anymore.

"You all right?", Jamie inquired, putting his hand above the man's elbow to help him up. He discreetly sniffed the air around him, but all he could detect was the sour smell of sweat, and not a trace of alcohol. Instead of relief, Jamie felt a cold sting inside his head. If it wasn't the alcohol, then it could have been something much uglier. Drugs, possibly.

Careful not to frighten him, Jamie peered under the stranger's hood to check on his eyes. The pupils looked and acted normal, at least from what Jamie could tell in that dim red light of the corridor. The way they looked certainly did not explain why Jamie couldn't catch his eyes. They kept starring ahead like they couldn't see Jamie there, like they couldn't see anything there, for that matter. Like it was a kind of intoxication after all.

That was when the truth suddenly crawled into Jamie's vision. After all he was a vet, so his eyes were unusually alert and perceptive of any kind of physical damage, no matter the lighting or conditions.

The guy's face was bruised all over. Not only that, the skin was torn in one place on his cheek and another at his temple. It seemed like a serious battering. What could that be? A jealous lover? Or a gay-unfriendly neighborhood? Jamie could feel a whirlpool of worry filling up his stomach at the possibilities.

"Hey, you need somebody to see those." He tried his softest, calmest tone, like was talking to a hurt, scared animal. At least this was what Jamie had the confidence that he was remotely good at.

The man wasn't responsive, which didn't surprise Jamie anymore. He breathed slowly and heavily. Yes, even his breathing was in slow-motion.

"Gotta go", he muttered like he was in some kind of a trance. "I've gotta go", he repeated as he trudged into the street. Jamie scurried beside him, although he was cautious to keep his distance. And Jamie did not watch his distance simply because he wanted to; it was a lesson he learned from his patients. When you meet a distrustful creature, then if you're too persistent and everything's about your display of affection and good will, all you can do is more harm to that unfortunate soul.

"Look at you, you can't be going nowhere in this… condition". Trying not to seem like a road salesman, Jamie prayed that the man could hear him in spite of his dissociated appearances. "I really think you should sit down for a minute… why don't you tell me what happened?"

"Gotta go", was his only reply. And then, in spite of his words, he suddenly stopped in the middle of the pavement, gasping for air like he was suddenly wounded in the chest.

Jamie couldn't even see his face well, its expression or the exact way it looked. And the tone of his voice also revealed little more than his stupor. But it didn't matter. What Jamie was certain of was that this man was in such enormous pain, such silent, unstoppable torture that it broke Jamie's heart. And all that he knew was that he couldn't leave to his own devices this beaten, devastated man, possibly intoxicated and out of control, right in the middle of this cold, indifferent city.

It just didn't seem right.

Slowly but decisively, Jamie stepped up to stand in front of the stranger.

"Would you please look at me", he issued his straightforward request, consequently trying to make an eye contact with him. In the light shed by the street lamps, the stranger's eyes looked icily bright and distant. He seemed to look right through Jamie, like he wasn't even there, like there was just the thick nighttime darkness spreading before him.

The man then lowered his blank stare, directing it at his own hands. He was looking at them all confused, with some sort of disbelief and a tint of despair. It really was a lonely and disturbing sight.

That was when Jamie decided to move one step further, because the problem was too deep to keep holding back. By doing this, he risked going one step too far, but it still would be no worse than letting the man go just like that. Now at least Jamie would have tried.

What he ventured into was the physical contact.

"Listen." He took a light, concerned grip of the man's shoulder, leaning a little bit towards him. He still wanted to leave him some margin in case the man decided this was unbearable and fled, but he did realize that in order to elicit any reaction from him, he had to be more aggressive. "Is there somebody you'd like me to call? Like, someone close you'd feel comfortable around?"

This approach turned out quite effective. Apparently moved at the mentioning of _someone_ _close_, the man quivered and looked up to meet Jamie's face for the first time. Right now he seemed much more present.

"No, don't call anyone. I'm good." _You're certainly not_, thought Jamie, but didn't let it escape his mouth, as he was too much in awe at this relatively long and coherent utterance from his newly acquainted friend.

"I see", that was Jamie's reply instead. "Look… oh, and by the way, I'm Jamie…" he suspended his voice, but as it was clear that the man had no intention to reveal his own name in return, Jamie carried on with his plan. "Why don't we sit down and talk? You could tell me what happened… You see, I do want to help you, but it will be all for nothing if you don't trust me."

The man winced uneasily, hesitating for a while. Jamie guessed that it might have been the foreign sound of the word _trust_ that made him so apprehensive.

"Alright, but just a few seconds", he drawled unenthusiastically. But Jamie was perfectly okay with that. The guy said yes, so they were finally on the way to help him. Such a relief.

"Sure, whatever you need", he responded seriously and as respectfully as he could, trying to let the guy know how he appreciated that this decision to _trust_ Jamie must have cost him quite a lot. "Do you want to go to a bar or somewhere? I know a few nice places around… Or… or would you rather go somewhere private? I live two subway stations away, if you don't like the audience."

"I don't like the audience", the man answered curtly. Jamie received this statement with plenty of understanding. Discussing painful private issues wasn't exactly suited for crowded, noisy places such as New York downtown bars in their evening rush hour.

But walking the stranger to the subway station, and thinking how unambiguously an offer of "going somewhere private" made by a stranger in a gay club must have sounded like, Jamie gave it his all to stop flushing like a madman.


	2. Chasing waterfalls

They traveled the way to Jamie's apartment in almost perfect silence. The man wouldn't become any more easygoing, and Jamie figured it would perhaps be best, and most considerate on his part, if he'd shut up for a few minutes instead of trying to keep up the conversation with someone to whom even uttering single chunks of words apparently seemed like an excruciating effort. They even sat in the opposite seats in the subway train, hardly ever looking at each other, like they were complete strangers… which they in fact were.

Never interrupting the stillness around them, in some fifteen minutes they reached their destination. It was a one-bedroom type apartment, located on the first floor of a modern seven-storey building. Its windows and balcony faced a relatively quiet back alley. A nice place for a reasonable renting price, overall.

Jamie opened the door and let the man in first, asking him to proceed to the living room and make himself comfortable. His guest limped ahead and ended up on Jamie's sofa, ignoring in a disinterested manner the new environment he found himself in. On the other hand, Jamie found himself stuck by the entrance with his two cats, Pleakley and Jumba, for their affectionate welcome ceremony. (Jamie called them by their names, by the way, but the man remained unaffected. Apparently he didn't get the idea. Not that he could be expected to be a Disney animated features fan, which made Jamie feel honestly sorry for him.)

Once the felines were satisfied with their "our human's back" petting ritual, Jumba moved to the kitchen annex venturing for more cat food to supply his already rather obese body. Or maybe he just hoped that Jamie, the way he always did as soon as he came back home, would open the fridge to get him some dinner, making it Jumba's chance to get some extra human snack that night, too. No luck this time, though. His owner was too busy worrying about this strange, smelly primate he'd just brought in as his territory round trophy.

If Jumba was the gourmand one, then Pleakley was the spoiled sentimental one. Jamie always suspected his lovely pet would literally sell his soul for one more stroke or ear scratch from any volunteer available, and Pleakley did confirm the assumption now as he stubbornly rubbed against the stranger's legs in heartfelt attempts to attract his attention. As for Jamie's guest, not only did he manage to stay indifferent to Pleakley's advances, he also kept pushing the poor creature away, consequently grabbing him and putting him aside every time Pleakley approached him, gently but coldly.

A dedicated cat-lover, all his life Jamie felt sympathy embellished with scorn towards people who were put off by cats, or animals in general. With this man, however, it seemed somewhat different. It was less like he was disgusted by Jamie's pet and more like he was scared of him, scared of being intruded upon. All it did was magnify Jamie's concern.

It was no use to expose to a cat's caresses someone who found their touch disturbing, so Jamie shushed Pleakley out of the couch and into the kitchen to go and play with Jumba.

"Would you like something to drink?", he targeted then an inquiry to his guest in a mild tone, sitting himself on the chair beside the sofa.

Still with his hood on, as if ashamed of revealing his face, the man seemed strangely surprised at Jamie's offer.

"No… no", he answered in a hoarse voice, followed by another spell of thick silence.

Jamie took a deep breath, for a moment fixing his gaze upon his guest's hands. Those were a pair of beautifully shaped palms with incredibly long, lean fingers. They had a certain sternness to them, as well as frailty. Jamie brushed aside a strand of wavy dark hair from his forehead and swallowed uneasily at this breathtaking work of nature that were the hands of that man. But finally, he pulled himself together enough to lift his gaze again to the stranger's hood-covered face.

"So… do you think you can tell me now what happened?", he got back to the topic that brought them there.

But the man apparently didn't.

Instead, with those trademark slow-motion movements, he began to take off his sweatshirt. A white undershirt fitted tightly to his torso, which was quite muscular, although slender. Jamie stared into it until he found the courage to look up and for the first time discover the man's now-revealed face.

He was such a beautiful guy. Even with those bruises and scratches, with those dark rings around his eyes, and his rough skin grey with exhaustion. He had this raw but mysterious way about him, contradicting as it may have seemed. His cheeks were sunken, his complexion ash-pale, like he was suffering from some debilitating condition, but even this couldn't deny the grace of his looks. The exquisiteness of this chiseled face, of those symmetrical features so firm, but so vulnerable. There was something extraordinary about this face. About its angular shape, broad forehead, fine nose and strong jawline. Something compelling, but at the same time intimidating.

Up until this moment, Jamie had had this vague feeling like he was standing right on the edge of something unknown, something exciting and maybe a little bit scary. But right now he found himself pushed off the cliff and dragged into the stranger's ominously lonely world, now that the stranger leant towards Jamie to kiss him.

_This isn't what we came here for_, Jamie could hear his muffled inner voice struggling to get through to him from under the chaos of his physical responses. He wanted to help the guy, rather than indulge in his own fantasies of giving consolation sex to an attractive stranger. The man clearly was in deep trouble, and if he wanted to solve his problems by sexual acting out – fine, but why should it be Jamie of all people to lend him a hand and become a part of his escapist schemes? Then again, the taste of the man's lips was too strong, the sensation of their ripe, stylish bitterness with the promise of red hot passion boiling underneath their skin too overwhelming for Jamie to care. That's why his inner voice was muffled in first place.

Somehow he forced himself to pull away for air, breathing way too heavily for just this one kiss that they shared.

He put his lips beneath the man's ear.

"Are you sure this is going to help you?", he asked the most unconvincing question ever. And so the man didn't bother to answer Jamie. Instead, he pulled him closer and renewed his kiss, now much more aggressively with his tongue tracing decidedly the inside of Jamie's mouth, letting him know exactly what the man wanted.

With his inner voice now almost completely silent and his need aroused, Jamie was conflicted and at a loss on how to shake off his sixth sense, the one that kept trying to convince him of that which was not obvious and not visible to the eye at all. And basically what it told Jamie was that it wasn't wise to have sex with that guy right now. Not because he was a total stranger, a slightly suspicious one at that. Not because he may have carried some transmittable disease, or because he might have been dangerous or out of control for one reason or another. It wasn't even because Jamie could feel bad about it afterwards, just as he did after his first and only one night stand ever, convinced by his friends that he really should try it for once. It wasn't about Jamie at all. It was this irrational hunch that by sleeping with this man Jamie could somehow damage him, as if sex to him was a kind of self-defeating experience.

Of course, with the man's tongue down his throat and his chest pressed against his own, Jamie didn't have the time, the energy nor the will to get vocal about these intuitions. That is to say, he was rather too busy putting all three into wondering if the condoms he'd been storing in his bedroom since he and Jessie broke up three years ago had not yet passed the expiry date.

"They're still good!", Jamie exclaimed triumphantly, throwing a package of condoms at the table where he'd left his guest, who by this time had managed to get rid of his undershirt, exposing his sculpted body. Jamie seated himself beside the man on the couch. "They've got one more year to go, isn't that wonderful? And I didn't throw them away, even though I thought I wouldn't need them anymore, I think I'm a genius", he soliloquized excitedly, like a little kid who unexpectedly came across their Christmas gifts in some random wardrobe or drawer in November. All the apprehension from just a few moments before seemed to have faded away.

The man made no spoken comments (he certainly was not the talkative type), he just raised his eyebrows at this display of Jamie's exhilaration. He also nodded his head before proceeding to unbutton Jamie's shirt and unzipping his jeans.

Jamie closed his eyes for a second, drifting away at the sensation of those fabulous fingers almost stroking his skin. Even in this moment full of promise, he was still bothered by what he'd seen before in the corner of his eyes, a big nasty bruise just under the man's ribs, yet another remnant of the battering he'd evidently been a victim of.

"Be careful with that", he pleaded before he proceeded to kiss the man, gripping his shoulders tightly with his fingers. He felt his skin burning as the man touched his arms underneath the unbuttoned shirt only to shake it off of his back.

While the man kept sucking on his lips and rubbing them against his, Jamie, overcome with lust, guided his palms down the man's chest and belly until he resolutely slid a hand under his boxers.

He shivered at the warm, solid flesh he sensed beneath his own skin. It was so delightful to see him so closely and learn him so intimately by using just the sense of touch. Feeling his erection rise at Jamie's gentle strokes made Jamie bite his lip hard; definitely, making this man feel good just felt too good.

Meanwhile, one of the man's hands wandered around Jamie's chest, resting the other between Jamie's legs. This made Jamie purr and he spontaneously swung his hips to press his crotch tightly against the man's open hand.

He drew his touch-thirsty body closer to the man, all engulfed in the vibrating, relentless want. Initially he intended to sit on his lap and entwine his arms and legs around his back, with the most intimacy they could think of pulling out of their lovemaking.

But then he remembered exactly the way the man held him and touched him. He clearly wasn't the cuddly type, and most probably he also wasn't the "I'm-so-curious-for-you-let-me-explore-everything" type. If the appearances were correct, tender sex on an all-encompassing physical and emotional level can't have been his cup of tea – and no wonder about that if he really was that much into random sex with strangers as he appeared to be.

And fascinatingly, Jamie wouldn't mind that at all. He was willing to try it his way, whatever that could be.

Withdrawn and distant as he still remained, the man didn't seem like he was about to articulate his own needs, or his own visions of what could happen between the two of them. Maybe he was one of those who still believed that sex was simply something that gets done rather than talked about. Well, Jamie was one of those who couldn't disagree more.

"Just wondering… Have you got any, like, ideas or something? Any specific wishes about what we could do here?" Jamie put on an earnest, heart-warming smile while resting his hand on the man's dry cheek and scratching behind his ear. He wanted to create a friendly buddies-being-honest-with-each-other atmosphere, one as cozy and pressure-free as possible, just in case the man should feel embarrassed or otherwise uncomfortable trying to translate the images from his head into words, and then words into reality.

But all the response that Jamie got was the man flinching with an aghast look on his face.

He gulped nervously and slowly shook his head before muttering a breathy "no".

It was all too clear he didn't actually mean it. Jamie crooked his head and pulled a disbelieving face. Then he put his arms around the man's shoulders and rested the forehead against his.

"Seriously, you can tell me… You've got nothing to lose, right? At the worst, I can only say no", he assured the man light-heartedly as a playful smile crossed his lips. He slid his hand down the man's torso all the way to his lower abdomen, taking much delight in the tight muscular body and thick strings of veins he recognized underneath.

The man, however, remained silent, walking his gaze down the floor as if he believed that by avoiding Jamie's eyes he could get away with not answering the question.

And then he simply pulled Jamie's trousers down to uncover his erection, around which he wrapped those long, slender fingers. It seemed to Jamie as if he was saying _Enough of your bullshit, let's just get down to business at last_.

Not that Jamie complained. Not in the slightest. He sighed and then bit his lips at the feeling of the man's fingers right on his tender spots. Flexing his muscles, Jamie straightened his back and slightly moved away to let the man have a better view, although never loosening the clamp of his hands on the man's chest as he rubbed his palms against the rough skin, massaging the breastbone, smoothing out the ribs, pressing against the nipples. He heard the man sigh with pleasure even as he carried on with the controlled jolting movements of his wrist. And just when Jamie thought he'd have to ask him to let go, worried that otherwise he could come too soon, the man relented with almost an awe-inspiring timing.

He reached with his hand to the table and took a piece from the package of condoms that Jamie had brought a while before. He put it then in Jamie's hand, looking at him expectantly before pulling his own trousers down.

Jamie shuddered at the enticing sight, the promise of the gift that awaited him almost making him dizzy.

He shyly stroked the man's erection; it felt hard and sizzling against his hand. Then he unpacked the condom, careful not to damage it, before he covered the man's massive manhood despite the trembling fingers.

He found it difficult to keep his eyes off of the man's crotch, but his anxious excitement ultimately took over. He searched for the man's hands to put them on his hips invitingly; then he folded his arms around his neck and embraced him tightly, his panting in the man's ear telling him more about Jamie's feelings than any words ever could.

The man laid then a tiny kiss on Jamie's lips, which Jamie returned fierily. Next, he made a gesture with his hand, suggesting that Jamie turn around to change his position. So that was what this perverse fantasy the guy was so reluctant to share was about? If that was really all that there was to it, then it was pretty modest of adventurous one night stand seeker. Jamie couldn't help a smile, his face still only a breath away from the man's face. Then he willingly bent down to rest on his elbows, pulling his knees up close to his chest and seductively shifting his hips upwards to give his companion a more tempting view.

The man placed himself above Jamie, who could then feel those wiry hands hold his buttocks. Just as he was preparing for the feeling of a lean finger crawling into his body, the scorching wetness of the man's tongue intruded inside him with a rare bravery and confidence, infecting Jamie's blood with its hotness until it seemed like it was about to boil and explode.

That was unexpected, and the sensation was absolutely tantalizing. Letting out a delighted hiss which soon changed into a moan, Jamie gripped helplessly on the dark blue upholstery of the sofa. His body writhed in ecstasy even after the blazing flesh of the man's tongue was replaced with his agile, daring fingers. Jamie's body, untouched and neglected for such a long time, now seemed to be turning into a single bright flash of craving.

While the man was running his fingers back and forth inside Jamie's rigid frame, Jamie had to clench his fists as if to resist the waves of delight lest they overcome him and have him lose his mind. Already struggling to breathe, he somehow managed to slightly lift his upper body on an elbow and angled his head to give the man a passionate kiss of gratitude and invitation. The man readily kissed him back, and the savory, a little coarse taste mixed with the touch of his fingers finally sliding out of Jamie's body.

Shaking and dizzy at the mere thought of what was about to happen, Jamie could hardly control his body screaming for fulfillment. The man was out and ready to give it all to him, and Jamie gasped when he sensed on his lower back a hand damp and warm with his own intimate fluids.

The man's other hand grabbed Jamie's hip hard, and before Jamie knew it, he could feel the man's presence, so firm and radiating and uncompromising, pierce the narrow corridor within Jamie. He moved smoothly, reached as far as he could, relented for a second, and once he knew that Jamie's body opened up before him, he proceeded even further.

Jamie found himself breathless, in all possible meanings of the world. The touch of the man's erection rocking inside him felt like a golden rain, a rain of searing flames burning the skin all over Jamie's body with their bittersweet caresses. His lover's thrusts were steadfast and apt – if not a little mechanical, but that thought never occurred to Jamie until some time later – showing an immense strength and purely physical stamina, relentless even as what seemed like hours, but more likely was minutes, passed by with Jamie under the command of the man's embrace. Having spent most of his adult life in a long-term relationship, Jamie had had sexual experiences of little diversity, but this one thing he could be sure of: the man was an absolute master of the art.

Captivated, Jamie turned his head again, among the more and more violent swings of their joined hips trying to brush the man's face with his elated, thankful kisses. In the raging storm of motions he did the best he could, planting his lips in the corner of the man's nostril and his wide-opened mouth. The man didn't reject it, but he didn't exactly make the task easier for Jamie, who was too overwhelmed too care.

He did begin to care, however, once he was finished, and it happened much too soon for Jamie's liking – even though it was to be expected with stimulation this strong, the man's fierce thrusts and his penis rubbing steadily against the sofa under the pressure of their connected bodies. Exhausted and short of breath, beads of sweat running freely down his boldly exposed body, Jamie meant to dive head-first into this incomparable sensation of bliss and fulfillment, to savor the aftermath, preferably enfolded in his lover's arms and sharing every breath, every gaze, every silent thought. And yet, he had to snap out of his euphoric intoxication almost as soon as it began.

He did realize the man hadn't come before Jamie did, kindly pulling away lest his prolongated presence should cause Jamie any pain. This was already something unusual, something that didn't really happen often – at least from what Jamie knew and had experienced himself, most often it had to take something special for the bottom partner to come sooner than the top. Well, this was something special indeed: the man was certainly a capable and sophisticated lovemaker, while Jamie was sensitive and easily excitable, not to mention after a period of a really long sexual abstinence. So yes, perhaps after all it wasn't so unexpected for Jamie to finish before him. But still…

Still, when Jamie sat up and looked behind, the sight shocked him.

Kneeling beside him, the man was touching himself aggressively, still fighting his dissatisfied desire. Not only that; his face, until now never expressing much emotion even as the heat between the two of them reached the highest peaks, was wincing in what appeared as enormous pain.

There was no lust. No joy. No fun. No anything. Just the suffering, pure suffering. And desperation, the savage need for the thing to let him go. Like a runner halfway through the marathon too tired to even stop. Or like a witness of a terrifying accident too petrified to look away.

In just a few seconds, delight turned into a serious scare. Jamie waited for a moment or two, but realizing that what he saw wasn't an illusion, and even more – that the man's distress didn't look like it was going to soon be over, he decided to act. He pulled himself close and reached out to replace the man's hands with his, and he began to energetically touch him instead. The man seemed rather reluctant about the idea, but he eventually did allow Jamie to take care of him, without even uttering a word; trouble was that it didn't change a thing. The man was still all stiffened, his organic needs unappeased. The largest flood of tenderness that Jamie was capable of offering to him turned out in vain. As he clung to the man's shattered form, he began to rub his body against his. His hopes of actually helping him come by intensifying and heating up the sensations like that were sincerely fading; truth be told, he was rather attempting to prepare himself for another round all the way.

As for Jamie, he was perfectly satisfied, to be sure. He felt no need for another intercourse, or actually, he was too exhausted to even like the idea. But now… this man gave him so much pleasure, and now was left in such unexplainable agony. Jamie felt responsible for him. He had to try to give him release, trying was the least he could do.

He wrapped his legs around the man's waist and held him close, face to face, adjusting his hips so that he could plunge inside him again. The penetration this time came with more pain, perhaps predictably, because Jamie wasn't even half as excited, so the result was that of eating when one's full. Nevertheless, Jamie was sure that the pain wasn't so much of a physical nature or origin. It was the man's desperation and agony that was transmitted to Jamie, sinking into his blood vessels with no inhibitions. Making love to him on such occasion, under these conditions, made Jamie share his mindset. Just let me come finally, no matter what. Just make this end, just make this tension go away. With each and every motion, Jamie had to fight for each and every breath, the sensations were just too much and not on the pleasant side of "too much". The man tightly clutched Jamie's pelvis to him, shoving, pushing ahead and pulling behind in frantic spasms. Only now did the soulless mechanicalism of the man's movements strike Jamie. All this wasn't in the least sexy anymore. No sense of lust, no sense of enjoyment, no common sensual ground between them, nothing but the mindless craving. And yet, in a really odd way, Jamie could feel himself very much connected to the man by these bleak feelings they shared and they both were a part of.

Observing the man's face, Jamie kept wondering if it had looked this way before, only he couldn't notice it because of their position. Or maybe it'd just gotten worse the longer the man couldn't find his release. The tortured look on that handsome face, the aching grimace mixed with traces of synthetic arousal, too cold and too urgent to have anything to do with actual excitement, it really made quite an impression. It was hardly a turn-on, but definitely not something forgettable. For better or worse.

The man eventually let out a tormented grunt and turned instantly motionless, his release swelling up inside Jamie's body. Upon that sensation Jamie came as well: maybe it was the power of the experience, or maybe more of a relief. Anyway, Jamie was truly glad it was over.

That was definitely the weirdest sexual experience he'd ever had.

Something told him that for his guest, things like that were an everyday's reality.


	3. Like frozen sky in October night

Curled up on the sofa and still trying to catch his breath – with varying level of success – Jamie couldn't shake off his thoughts on what the hell had just happened.

His guest remained seated beside him with what seemed like safe (safe from what, actually?) distance, motionless and thoroughly unaffected. Eyes closed, head tilted back. He looked weary and indifferent, but physically he seemed no more tired than your typical couch potato who'd had a slightly fast-paced walk to the nearest subway station. That uncontrollable anguish from when they'd had their second intercourse had all but disappeared and now it may even have seemed some kind of a bad dream. That is, if only Jamie hadn't had the reminiscence of the man's pain-struck expression and stressed-out body still clutching onto his memories, so fresh and so vivid.

Honestly, Jamie was concerned. He had absolutely no idea what the matter was with his accidental guest. In one corner of his mind he even considered calling for medical help… maybe this sexual agitation combined with such total emotional numbness was a result of some drug abuse (not that Jamie knew too much about the effects of all fancy drugs available on the market)? Maybe the guy was about to have a fatal heart attack in just a few moments and Jamie would have to live the rest of his days with the remorse of doing nothing to prevent it. Or something like that.

Nevertheless, Jamie quickly discarded that guess as unlikely. The man did not seem physically unwell, save for his grayish skin, plus those cuts and bruises. It was more like he was… somehow sunken, imploded. Like his mind and emotions resembled those sickly cheeks in his narrow face.

And Jamie was clueless as to what to do. What to say, if anything. How to act, if anyhow. Leaning against the backrest of the sofa, with his azure gaze he traced the man's lanky form. He was looking for any tiny sign, a motion, a shudder, a wince, any kind of prompt, conscious or unconscious, on the man's part. All the while, he also had to fight his own urge to go and cuddle the man, to console him and assure that everything was alright, and that whatever it was that was bothering him, here with Jamie he was safe. If only Jamie had had the nerve and the confidence to say so, that is.

But somehow he managed to keep that raging sympathy of his at bay. He followed a rule he'd blindly obey while at work, which was: never lavish a dog with your affections until he goes for them first. _Let him decide if he wants you close_.

Some dogs would never want Jamie close, because that was simply the way they were with strangers, or veterinarians, or people in general. And some had a good reason not to trust him, as in they'd been hurt before and his very presence reminded them of the worst memories of their lifetime. For the sake of this man's good, Jamie sincerely hoped that he was the former case, while in fact his intuition kept telling him that it was the latter.

Following a related rule, _if he doesn't like to be touched then let him fight or flee – don't assault him, just give him the choice_, Jamie finally dared to brush the man's hand with his fingers. As there had still been no flight nor fight on the part of the man, Jamie went a little bit further and bravely tapped his forehead on the man's shoulder.

Not exactly discouraged by the lack of reaction on his guest's part (firmly believing that if he didn't like it, he would simply pull away), Jamie finally found it in himself to try and break the silence.

"You're really good, you know? I mean, at these things…"

The man finally provided Jamie with a passing look. A rather surprised one.

"You serious?", he replied in disbelief, and Jamie felt oddly amused at his own observation that this must have been the first question-like thing the man had uttered so far, compared to the shower of questions that Jamie had already had thrown his way.

"Yes I am, but um…" Jamie grazed the man's ash-green eyes with a soft peek, trying to figure out which words to pick to address most adequately – and respectfully – the problem he was about to voice. "Don't blame me if I'm being too frank… and if I'm wrong, please just tell me so." He took a deep breath before proceeding to his somewhat more confrontational lines. "It's just that I've got this impression that you don't really enjoy all this. Even though you know how to do all these things, and you do them well, and you give me so much pleasure… you can't feel any of this pleasure yourself, can you?"

The man's lips twitched for a second, as if defensively. The stare he planted upon Jamie's face this time was much more attentive, perhaps even menacing.

"I like it. A lot", he responded, stressing every syllable. He seemed all set on correcting Jamie's misguided opinions on him.

Don't rush it, Jamie thought to himself. He had to play it careful. If there was a slightest chance to help this man anyhow, to bring him relief, Jamie absolutely wouldn't allow it to escape. To make him feel assaulted or judged was the last thing Jamie wanted.

So he observantly nodded his head, diving further into the man's eyes.

"What exactly do you like about it? What is it that you're looking for?"

The man sent him a curt, unwelcoming look before snapping out of their eye contact.

"I just happen to like it."

Jamie nodded once more. He stretched his body in a carefree way to relieve some of the tension from the scene. Then he looked up and smiled a light, unassuming smile, as if to say _don't worry, it's not about you at all, it's all about me, alright? It's just that I'm having this sudden need to chatter about my sex life. Nobody's attacking you. __**Your**__ sex life is really no big deal. You don't have to be so alert. You don't_.

"Well, because for me, what I like about sex is that… let me see… For example, it gives me this feeling of intimacy with someone I like, it helps me get to know him better. And I also like the fact that sex demands a lot of trust from me, so that when I decide to give it a go, it means that I trust the other person and that I'm ready to let him discover things about me, such things that nobody else may know, or often even I don't know myself". He let out a small chuckle. "I also like the opportunity to share the pleasure that two people can give to one another and to admire each other's bodies… well, a whole lot of things, isn't it?" He laughed quietly again, with a one of the kind mixture of timidity and pride.

What he counted on was that this list would coax his lover into some kind of response. That he would say _come to think of it, yes, maybe I like that about sex too_, or _well I like it for totally different reasons_, or even _you know what, that's so full of shit_. But all he did was give Jamie another of those frigid looks, a nod, and a brief:

"Yeah, that's really a lot."

So he was unimpressed. Not really resentful, maybe surprisingly – only disaffected. He didn't care, that was all. Unconsciously, Jamie had to fight the feeling of hurt swelling up his throat. _Did he want him to care_, after all_?_

Going a little bit against himself, Jamie sent the stranger another agreeable, neutral smile. The more serious he felt on the inside, the more he tried to deny it; it was as if he sensed that there was room for only one miserable person on this sofa.

"How about you? Do you feel the same way?", he asked with an apparent guilelessness. "Do you trust the people you go to bed with?", he specified his seemingly-naïve inquiry, at the same time making an attempt to lay his head on the man's exposed lap, still damp with sweat. With this, Jamie meant to finally provoke some kind of reaction from the man, either a definite yes or definite no. And secretly, he was hoping that by accepting Jamie's head on his lap, in such an intimate, romantic pose, the man would say yes to Jamie's question even if he didn't put it into words.

But the man did nothing about Jamie's head weighing on his thighs.

"I think I don't believe in this kind of stuff", Jamie heard him say in a jaded voice.

It was then that a suspicion of a horrifying truth finally dawned on Jamie.

The man let him close not because he was alright with that. He let Jamie touch him, reduce the distance and express his fondness not because he didn't mind it. It was all because he was too messed-up to protest and too fatigued to struggle. He was sincerely indifferent to what was happening to him. Jamie might have begun to skin him alive instead and his response would probably be all the same.

_He didn't care_.

"I'm sorry", was all that Jamie found himself capable of saying. And that was a genuinely vague understatement. He wasn't sorry. He was heartbroken. And upset. And worry-struck. Not even as much at his own distress, his slightly damaged self-esteem at not being able to get to the man – that was simply childish and Jamie knew himself well enough to be certain he would get over it soon – as at the ailing of this dissociated, unapproachable man, so lonely, so withdrawn and given up, who Jamie could literally do nothing for.

He decided to try his luck again, just in case, but he already knew what the results would be. He reached out his hand to stroke the man's barely haired chest, just as he imagined lovers could do in the aftermath of their act.

"Would you like to talk for a while? Or… should we just go to sleep now?"

Initially, the man remained silent. It was Jamie's guess if he was hesitant about how to answer, or if he'd been so engulfed in his own thoughts that he could hardly hear Jamie's question and now had to play it back in his mind time and again to actually realize what on earth Jamie wanted from him this time.

"I think I want to go to sleep", he finally managed to utter. Jamie did his best not to notice the cold sting piercing through his chest.

Whatever else it was that he'd been trying to achieve that night, he had to give it up right now.

"Sure." He braced himself enough to curve his lips in yet another good-natured smile and even went as far as to plant a kind brotherly kiss on the man's handsome broad forehead. Damn if he wasn't a good liar after all. "Come with me, I'll show you the bedroom. … I can stay here, if you prefer to sleep alone." By this time Jamie had already no more illusions about what the man would have to say about the offer.

As expected, the man gave Jamie a simple nod. "Right. I'd like that, if I may. I can stay on the cough, though." He seemed like a decent guy, after all. With a decent upbringing and so-so manners, if he remembered to show them. Jamie smiled and shook his head.

"There's no need for you to. You'll be more comfortable there, more…well, relaxed. We can close the door and everything. Besides, we won't risk me waking you up if I get up earlier in the morning." And, truth be told, he would feel bad – with his own decent upbringing and so-so manners – if he made his guest sleep on the couch. Even an unexpected, puzzling guest such as that.

And so the time came for Jamie to draw back, both physically and mentally. That night he could do nothing for this anguished stranger, nothing more than offering him he could sleep alone in Jamie's bedroom. And that was simply the way things were, nothing more and nothing less to it.

_He had to let it go_.


	4. If I wait for stormy skies

Jamie woke up around six o'clock. He lifted his upper body on the elbow and sleepily brushed back his ruffled semi-long hair with his fingers. He winced, feeling expectedly sore in his lower back. Slowly, his consciousness began to recall why it was that he'd ended up on the couch, feeling so strained and burnt out.

He was sure he had been dreaming of something, possibly a nightmare, telling from the tension in his body and the haziness inside his head. Luckily, he couldn't remember anything. The bad part about it, though, was that the moment that sleep had begun to let go of his hold on him, while still drowning in the thick fog of half-asleep, he had this very believable vision that he was lying on this very couch in Jessie's embrace, with his head on his lap, the way he had always used to. And that he'd opened his mouth, trying to tell him_ You know what, I've just had this crazy dream, it really freaked me out, makes me wonder if I'm alright? … I met this strange guy in a club and let him fuck me twice, but he didn't enjoy it at all and couldn't even come, you think there could be something wrong with me?_ But then he hesitated and instead just wanted to ask _Why the fuck do you feel so cold, Jess?_

And it was then that consciousness entered the picture sharply to make Jamie realize that Jessie wasn't there. That he was trying to talk to a shadow. Seriously, Jamie M., you're so messed up. Jessie's been gone for three years. He's gone because he couldn't stand you anymore. And also because he fell in love with an almost-underage Latino boy model, but that petty little detail really shouldn't have mattered anything to you, should it.

Jamie yawned, stretched his body and bravely decided to pull himself together so as to take some constructive action, before he'd drown in the endless ocean of brooding and self-pity. He still had his guest behind the closed door of his bedroom, and as long as he was there, it would be unwise and selfish of Jamie to carry on with his dark fantasies on the misery of his own life.

And besides, brooding and self-pity would definitely be a lame way to start a day, no matter the circumstances.

And so Jamie made this heroic effort and got up. He looked for his cats, said hello to them, gave them some strokes and ear scratches, got rubbed back (at least something warm did live in this apartment, which was good news… naturally there were also the hamsters, but Jamie kept their cage in the bedroom, at the moment occupied by the stranger, so they were temporarily unavailable), and fed them. Then he trudged to the bathroom and took a shower. Warm streams of water massaged his skin with the most gentle touch he'd experienced in these couple of hours, making his stale blood run a little faster. He tried not to think about how lonely this setting felt, the puffs of steam circling around his naked form never quite able to replace anyhow a tender embrace of a fellow human being.

After a couple of minutes Jamie managed to convince himself out of the warm cuddle of his shower cabin, and he followed his normal everyday routine. He brushed his teeth, he shaved his face smooth, he put some underpants and jeans on, and grabbed a coffee which he drank with his cats on his lap so that the silence wouldn't kill him.

He peeked anxiously in the direction of his bedroom, but no signs of life were audible just yet from behind the door. Jamie moved his cats aside and boiled some more water to make another coffee, and prepared some toasts for breakfast. Before he knew it, the clock pointed to quarter to seven. Still not even a rustle resounded from the bedroom. Jamie sighed. Man, that was going to be awkward.

As if to earn some more time for his guest and give him a chance to get up on his own, Jamie put on a shirt in really apathetic movements. Still not exactly rushing the things, he also fixed his collar and cuffs, he began to fasten the buttons, and only then did he decide to approach the door, rather reluctantly.

He knocked, but there was no answer. Jamie wasn't an accomplished mind-reader (even though he sometimes liked to flatter himself with the idea, he was aware of how far away from the reality it was), so he couldn't decide if that was supposed to mean _yes_, _no_ or _I'm asleep, so fuck off_. And so he had to carry on in a more definite manner.

"Um… Hi there, I'm really sorry, but I have to get to work on time, so we're going to have to leave in some twenty minutes." He paused attentively for a while, let out a silent sigh of relief at the sound of bed screeching under a body movement, and added in a more cheerful tone: "You can go and take a shower if you'd like. Your coffee and breakfast are waiting for you".

Then he withdrew to the kitchen annex to finish the breakfast preparations; totally unsuspecting, he almost dropped a plate full of toasts with jam and peanut butter when he saw the man emerging from the room stark naked. Even though before Jamie had made sure to collect the man's clothes and fold them in the bedroom exactly so that they would avoid a rather embarrassing situation of his guest running around Jamie's apartment in his birthday suit in a quest to find anything to put on.

Did he forget he had his clothes with him in the bedroom?, twitched Jamie, realizing at the same time that it couldn't have been the case – he had them arranged right at the bedside table, so that he couldn't have missed them when he got up. Could that be he was doing that on purpose?

He cleared his throat uneasily, concerned that otherwise he wouldn't be able to squeeze any voice from his clamped vocal chords. "Did you sleep well?", he managed to mutter, for some reason trying hard not to let his guest know how restless his nudity made him.

And as if that weren't enough, the man turned around to face Jamie, full-frontal, before he replied casually "Yeah, okay, thanks".

He also made that funny gesture with his head, looking around as if he thought there was someone else in the room and had to make sure if it was really him that Jamie had directed his question at.

It didn't take much more than that for Jamie's blood to be sizzling once more. If his thoughts had been rushing, now they were jumping and spinning in a self-induced whirlwind. What was this man doing? Didn't he know what effect it had on Jamie? What did he want? Was that an invitation, or just a cold-blooded tease?

"Great", Jamie muttered half-heatedly. And then he carefully approached the man, afraid that any more rapid movements could scare him away. He could hear very clearly his own inner voice of reason shouting into his ear _What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your mind? That night was a disaster, don't you remember any of that? Do you really want all that pain to happen again, to both of you?_ But Jamie didn't care. All he could see was that beautiful vision of a ravishing naked man within his arm's reach, and all he could feel was his own desperate, lonely yearning to be touched.

The man withstood Jamie's gaze without even a blink. He maybe not as much as seemed to enjoy it, but he definitely didn't mind being scrutinized by Jamie to that degree in every nook and cranny of his exposed body.

"How about you, did you sleep well?", he even asked Jamie back, a so far unknown soft tone ringing in his voice. Jamie grew dubious. Was this small talk just an appearance, the man's odd idea of a foreplay? Or was it really just as a naïve inquiry as it seemed? And while Jamie was in great pains to figure that matter out, the man submitted another question. "When do you have to leave, again?"

"In twenty minutes", Jamie repeated himself from a few minutes before, and swallowed uncomfortably. He made a tiny shaking movement with his head; trampling on that inner voice of reason, he wanted to clasp any and all the chances that he could still possibly have and make them his own. "Or maybe… maybe a few minutes more", he corrected himself shyly.

The man gazed back at him and Jamie couldn't decide if that jade look of his was in fact expectant or doubtful. Of course, the former option was everything that Jamie wanted to see.

"I'll just take a quick shower", the man announced, and through the maniac throbbing of his own heart Jamie could almost hear him say _You're welcome to join me_.

But the man obviously didn't say that. Why would he. Making things any easier or more clear for Jamie? No way.

Although Jamie had to admit that he did enjoy that special tingle of anxiety mixed up with excitement at the vision of what might happen in a few seconds. And it really didn't matter if he had no reasons to hope this one could actually come true. _You're such an emotion junkie it's unbelievable_, Jessie once told him. And he was right, even though it really was a classical pot calling the kettle back little scheme.

Fighting off the tension, which accumulated with every passing second until it felt like it was going to rip Jamie apart from the inside, in the end he gave it a shot and leant towards the man to kiss him.

The already familiar, ripe sensation of his lips was close enough to making Jamie's chest burst.

However, everything ended before it even really started. The man did brush Jamie's lips back, but he also pulled away from the kiss as soon as he could. Then he disappeared in the bathroom, alone. Finally, at least his back seemed to send to Jamie a truly definite message:

_Fuck off, the night is over_.

Jamie pressed his lips hard, and it didn't help that he could still feel the man's taste on the tip of his tongue. It was all a little too much for him. Swaying back to the kitchen annex, he engaged all of his personal strength and determination – little of which he might have had left – to fight off the sorrow brimming in his eyes, a black magic potion of humiliation, solitude, rejection, and that grim, grim helplessness.

He took a grip on himself just in time for the man's return from the bathroom, this time fortunately fully dressed.

In general, he looked calmer than the day before, but that was the dead kind of calm, not the comfortable one. Nevertheless, he did seem somewhat more sociable. He even engaged in some polite dialogue, which Jamie rather appreciated, since this time he himself didn't feel up to initiating any friendly appearances.

The man asked Jamie some well-behaved questions about his job and workplace. He thanked him for breakfast, although he didn't have any, claiming that he was not used to eating this early in the morning (which somehow didn't surprise Jamie at all, given the lanky, unhealthy form of the man which must have had something to do with a rushed, unhealthy lifestyle). He was careful to keep his distance, but at the same time at least he tried to avoid the awkward silence.

So he was a nice guy, after all. He definitely must have been a lovable person, or he would be one if he hadn't been going through that unnamed, unspecified tribulation in his life. Jamie was quite positive about this conclusion. And of course it didn't alleviate any of the pain on the inside. Making himself hate the man would have been that much easier on him.

When they were about to part at the entrance to the subway station, trying not to think about how he was making a complete fool of himself, Jamie dug into the pocket of his overcoat and took out a notepad on which he'd scribbled – back when the man was still asleep and Jamie sort of convinced himself that this would make any sense – his name, home address and mobile phone number. He then shoved the paper into the man's pocket with an explanation that turned into a rather miserable advertising monologue.

"You can call me anytime… Besides, you know where I live, right? I tend to spend most of my evenings at home, so you can come unannounced whenever you feel like it_._"_ Does that make me sound like a total desperate?_, quivered Jamie at the sound of the line he'd just spoken. He quickly looked for words that would distort this impression, to a rather sorry effect. "It doesn't have to be the sex… Really, it can be whatever you need from me, just talking, or playing with the hamsters, or really anything." Now he didn't sound like a desperate anymore. Now he was a plain sales assistant.

The man accepted the notepad and summed up Jamie's monologue with a short "Thanks". It wasn't the drama, but a sharp sting of realism that told Jamie very firmly that in all likelihood the man wasn't ever going to use it.

Afterwards, Jamie thanked the man for the last night, and the man thanked him back. Jamie didn't bother to ask the man his name. He knew there would be no point. Or rather, this time he allowed his inner voice to convince himself about it – the last time he ignored it, the results were quite wretched.

The man then turned around and once again in less than an hour, Jamie was left to powerlessly watch his back disappear in the distance.

And so Jamie knew that most probably (and how distortedly he relished in that slight possibility of unrealistic favorable outcome lingering in that promising sound of the word _probably_) that was it. Over. He wouldn't get to see that man anymore.

He couldn't shake that lonely feeling that all that had happened the night before was simply pointless, as futile as anything lately in Jamie's life.


End file.
